


The Ones He Left Behind

by MagusLibera



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Scenes, Episode: s08e01 Starling City, F/M, Missing Scene, POV Alternating, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagusLibera/pseuds/MagusLibera
Summary: In the Starling City of Earth-2, Oliver reminds himself of his mission, and his reasons to succeed in it with some photographs. Unfortunately, some other people notice these photographs and they want to know who the people in them are.Oliver explains Felicity, William and Mia to the alternate versions of his loved ones.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 26
Kudos: 137





	1. [Moira]-2

**Author's Note:**

> So... Crisis happened. And in the wake of THAT, here is a fic that remembers exactly what Oliver's motivations were going into it and spends a solid few chapters focusing on them.
> 
> Keep your hopes up for the finale. I'm not giving up until the very last minute.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Moira visits Oliver in his room, she notices the photograph that he is holding and asks him about it.

**Chapter I: [Moira]-2**

Oliver has been acting strange since his return. Some might say that strangeness is to be expected, what with him having just spent twelve years on a deserted island, but what Moira is finding odd is not that Oliver is antisocial and overwhelmed, but that he actually seems very well adjusted. Possibly even more so than he was before he boarded the _Queen’s Gambit_.

He has taken all of the changes in his stride, like he was expecting them. And what is even more confusing is that he seems to know about things before he should possibly be able to. In fact, the only times that he has seemed taken aback have been when he almost seemed to be expecting things to have changed but not in the way that they have.

With regards to her marriage, for example, Moira gets the distinct impression that Oliver knew that she would have remarried, but believed that it would be to somebody else, not Malcolm. Who he was expecting, Moira cannot fathom, but she cannot shake the feeling nonetheless.

*************************

At dinner, he talks about _cooking_ for somebody named William. Last Moira checked, Oliver _never_ cooked. He knew a few recipes from his time with Raisa, but he would never actually cook of his own volition. Where he would have picked up the skills to make a meal for somebody whilst on a deserted island, Moira will never know. But Tommy’s assumption that this _William_ person was Oliver’s ‘Wilson’ on the island just does not ring true to her.

He is quick to excuse himself from the table, claiming exhaustion but Moira thinks that it might be something more. There is a bone deep tiredness that he seems to exude, something borne of long years of hardship and suffering, and not just the physical kind, though the scars littering his body suggest that too.

*************************

So Moira gives him a short while to himself, finishing her meal and letting him settle back into his bedroom before she goes to check on him. When she comes to his door, she finds it wide open which affords her a glimpse of him standing before the window, staring out into the storm. She shudders to think of how he might feel about storms after the _Gambit_ ’s sinking and whatever else followed.

She hesitates by the door and instinctively makes the decision to stay behind the wall, waiting out of sight. For what, she does not quite know, but she wants a chance to observe him, wanting to see how he behaves in the privacy of his room. She watches as he heaves a sigh before moving over to his bed and pulling something from his pocket. Seated at the foot, he stares at the small square, his entire countenance changing as he does so. There is no masking, no pretending, just pure emotion as he stares into what Moira deduces must be a photo. Longing, pain, unwavering love, it is all written across his face like words on a page, and Moira cannot help herself but to go to him.

Remembering herself at the last minute, she pauses once she has revealed herself in the doorway and knocks to get his attention. She notices that he has already looked up at her before her fist makes contact with the wood. He somehow is aware of her presence before he has made a sound. Wanting to take his mind off of whatever is in that image, she attempts to engage in small talk. Hearing him call her ‘Mom’ will never stop being incredible, not after twelve years of missing him. Mourning him.

Feeling brave, she broaches the topic of his return, trying to see if she can get him to talk about his reaction to the changes that have occurred in an attempt to understand exactly what is running through his head. He gives very little away, so she switches to a more direct approach. He remains a stone wall, impenetrable until she tells him that he has become a better man. That, she can see, strikes a chord within him.

She has no idea where it comes from, but he starts to speak about a hypothetical scenario in which she would have had to leave her children to save them. It reminds her of the days prior to her bargain and subsequent marriage to Malcolm, when there had been a half-baked and fully deranged plot to damage the Glades. The same plot that got Robert killed and Oliver stranded for over a decade. She knows that there is _nothing_ that she would not do for her children. She tells him as much, but she also knows exactly how those decisions turned out. Thea dead and Oliver gone.

*************************

As he pulls back from her arms, tears in his eyes, she knows that there is something bigger at play here. His question was far too random, too specific, his emotions are too raw and she feels compelled to ask, “Oliver, who was in that photograph you were looking at?” The way that he freezes lets her know that she is on the right track, “It was somebody important… right? Somebody you care for.” She has to know, “Oliver, sweetheart, tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s just a photo of Thea, Mom. Nothing is going on.” His voice is tense. _He is lying_ , Moira realises.

“Oliver, _please_. I can’t help if I don’t know. Why were you asking about me leaving you and Thea? Who is this William person? I just want to help.” Oliver sighs, his shoulders visibly slumping as if something inside him has just broken.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, Mom. I’m not supposed to say anything.” He turns to her, lips turned in between his teeth and looks at her for a moment. His index finger and thumb are rubbing together in some sort of nervous tick as he contemplates something, and then he swears.

“Okay. Screw it. Here.” He thrusts the photo towards her in a jerky movement of his arm, nerves apparent. Moira takes it delicately, not wanting to cause any damage to the small item that clearly means so much to her son. In the photo is a young woman sat on a chair and holding a baby. That would be enough to give Moira all sorts of ideas as to why her son would be carrying such an image around, but such thoughts are really driven home by the loving look that the woman is giving the third person in the photo. A man, returning the gaze just as intensely. A man who is her son. Looking almost identical to the way that he does stood before her, barring the hair length. This is a recent photo of Oliver, not one from before the island.

“What?” she gasps, “Oliver, I don’t understand.” She scrutinises the paper again, trying to make sense of it and notices, “Oliver, is that Felicity Smoak? Of Smoak Tech?”

“Yes and no.” he admits, “That is Felicity Smoak, but not the one you know. Look, Mom, I’ve already broken about a thousand rules by even showing you this, but I need you to know that I did find some happiness in the last decade. I can’t explain this properly, but I need you to know that.”

Moira catches something else, “Oliver, is that a wedding ring on her finger? How is this possible? When was the photo taken? Is… is that _your_ baby?” she is in shock.

“Her name is Mia.” A small sob escapes him, but is overwhelmed by the pride in his voice, “Mia Smoak Queen. After my Mom. Felicity gave birth to her just over a month ago and she’s absolutely perfect. She also has a big brother, William. He’s thirteen.” He hands her another photograph. In this one, the same woman – Felicity – is smiling next to a handsome young boy who is leaning into her. They look happy.

He has not said outright that this is his family, but the implication is impossible to deny, “Oliver… I don’t understand.” Moira whispers, aghast.

“I can’t say any more, Mom. I really can’t. I want to tell you… I want to tell you _everything_ but I _can’t_. I just need you to know that I have been happy, I have been loved and I have loved in return. And that, now, I have to let that go – I have to let _them_ go – so that I can keep them safe. But I really shouldn’t say anything else. Please, Mom, just let it be. I _promise_ that it will make sense one day, but it’s too dangerous right now.” Oliver cries.

There is so much more that she wants to know, so much that she does not understand and Moira Queen is not one to let things go, but the look that he is giving her is so anguished, so desperate that she forces herself to acquiesce. She forces herself to tell him to get some sleep, to hug him and to leave his room. He said that she would understand one day. She will have to trust him in that.

*************************

Mere days later, when Tommy has been arrested for his crimes as the Dark Archer, Moira’s entire world literally implodes. And as she feels the burning wave of matter annihilating her very molecules, she reaches out to the man who looks just like her son and in his eyes, she finds her answer. Because his eyes are showing her a pain that he has felt before. His eyes tell her that he has watched her die before. And somehow, without understanding why, she understands that he _has_ watched her die before, because he is not _her_ Oliver. He is Oliver, but not _hers_. Her Oliver died twelve years ago in a sinking boat.

This one has led a different life, in a different place and all that he wants is to save his family.

She understands that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should arrive on Monday, ahead of Episode 9. I hope that you enjoyed this and that it helped somewhat.


	2. [Malcolm]-2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm finds Oliver's behaviour during his tour of Queen-Merlyn Enterprises suspicious and decides to investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little worried at how much I loved writing Malcolm. Like... I REALLY loved it. It was one of my favourites to write.
> 
> Episode 9 is tomorrow. I'm still hopeful :)
> 
> Enjoy some Malcolm Merlyn!

**Chapter II: [Malcolm]-2**

“Now, do you think that somebody could show me to the most important room on this tour?” Oliver asks, arms folded across his chest in an almost defensive manner.

“And, uh, what would that be?”

“The bathroom.” Oliver says like it should be obvious, a knowing smirk fighting to spread across his lips. But his request is reasonable, and Malcolm can think of no reason to deny it, so he points his step-son in the direction of the nearest bathroom and watches, deep in thought, as the taller man leaves.

Oliver is behaving suspiciously. And not just suspiciously as in a way that could be considered suspicious, but suspiciously like Oliver is suspicious _of_ something. Of him, the paranoid part of Malcolm’s brain whispers. But that is ridiculous. What reason would Oliver have to be suspicious of him? Malcolm may not be Oliver’s favourite person for many reasons, but it has been twelve years and the last time that they met, Malcolm was the absentee father of Oliver’s best friend and nothing more. Oliver could not possibly know about any of the other things. About the precise circumstances that led to his marriage.

It feels like he knows too much. Having an already extensive knowledge of the company and the goings on of Starling City after only two nights back. Even if he had stayed up all night researching, Malcolm still does not think that Oliver would know all of the things that he seems to.

Oliver had also used the term ‘the house’ to refer to Queen Mansion. Now, Malcolm may not have been the most present of fathers in the years before the Gambit’s sinking, but he had spent enough time with or around Oliver to know that he always called the Mansion ‘home’. A reasonable explanation for the change could be Oliver’s twelve year absence, but Malcolm finds it hard to believe that a man who was stranded on a desert island for twelve years would consider that place their home enough to stop feeling that way about the place that they had come from. As far as Malcolm is concerned, home would always be the place to get back to, which is what Oliver is professing to have been doing for the duration of his time away.

It is suspicious.

*************************

Malcolm’s distrusting tendencies must get to him, because before he fully knows what he is doing, he is utilising some of his waylaid training in order to stalk his wife’s son. Oliver has gone to the bathroom and he is leaving just as Malcolm catches up to him. Instead of making his way back, Oliver turns in the opposite direction and deftly weaves his way through the halls. To Malcolm’s knowledge, the amount of time that Oliver spent in Queen Consolidated in his youth was minimal and certainly not enough for him to have a working knowledge of the ins and outs of the IT department.

But Oliver seems to know exactly where he is going, a bounce in his step like he is excited for something, his eyes bright and curious. At the end of a hall, his head whips around several times before he clocks on to something, his entire body turning to lead him towards whatever it is, like he is being pulled by some sort of gravity.

As soon as Oliver has rounded the corner, Malcolm advances to stand behind the cubicle stall and watch. Before Oliver comes into view, he hears the most perplexing words “It’s supposed to be red.”

What is supposed to be red? Who is he talking to? What is he talking about? He reaches his position just in time to watch as a young blonde turns to face Oliver, a pen in her mouth as she frowns, “Excuse me?” she asks.

Oliver’s brows immediately sink towards his eyes and he gives a little shake of his head, “Nothing… sorry.” He quickly recovers, moving on from the moment with a disappointed manner, “I’m looking for Felicity Smoak.”

The girl’s incredulous huff of laughter mirrors Malcolm’s own reaction. Felicity Smoak. _Felicity Smoak_? What on Earth would Oliver be looking for Felicity Smoak for? And what would possess him to think that he could find her in the IT department of Queen-Merlyn Enterprises? One of her rival companies, no less.

“Like Felicity Smoak would slum it in IT instead of running Smoak Tech.” it is like this random girl, who Malcolm now realises bears something of a resemblance to a more nerdy, less confident Felicity Smoak, is reading Malcolm’s mind.

“Oh. Good for her.” Oliver says, voice soft and making this Not-Felicity girl frown. The familiarity and… almost adoration that Oliver speaks with forces Malcolm to wrack his brain, trying to pinpoint where Oliver could possibly know Felicity from. Because there is no way that he does not know her, not with that far off look in his eyes, memories almost visibly passing through his mind.

Felicity Smoak is barely thirty years old, more than four years younger than Oliver himself which would mean that she was only eighteen and still at MIT when Oliver went missing. Barring the absurd notion that they somehow met during Oliver’s years away, the only possibility would be that they met during her few years in college. Malcolm tries to remember if Harvard was one of the four schools that Oliver had attended. Though, he knows that _attended_ is an assumptive term for what happened during Oliver’s college years… enrolled would be more suitable. He cannot remember, he knows that Tommy was never at Harvard, but Tommy’s track record with colleges is even worse than Oliver’s and there was a period of time in which they were separate as Malcolm and the Queens had made a desperate but entirely futile bid to keep them in school. Malcolm makes a mental note to check later on.

*************************

Oliver inquires as to who the head of the IT department is, the tone of his voice making it seem almost like he had expected it to be _Felicity_ , and then he makes his way into Curtis Holt’s office. Malcolm has no idea what Oliver is doing in there, nor does he know where Oliver developed the skills with a computer needed to make his way into one owned by the head of QM’s IT department. He is also torn between stopping Oliver in his tracks – his behaviour is highly suspect and completely inappropriate – or waiting it out to find exactly what the man is up to.

His decision to wait pays off. As soon as Oliver is done on the computer, he glances over to a photo on Curtis’ desk that Malcolm knows is of Curtis and his husband. Oliver sighs, rubbing his temples between his middle finger and thumb as he pulls something from his pocket. It is a small, quadrilateral piece of paper. As Oliver stares at it, his face is overtaken by such pain, such longing that it almost hurts Malcolm to witness. It reminds him of the days – especially in the early years after losing Rebecca – that he would stare at photographs of the two of them, of their family and he would mourn what they had lost.

Unable to stop himself, Malcolm advances into the office. Giving Oliver no time to hide the paper away or to whip up an excuse, Malcolm snatches it from his hand. Oliver reacts just as quickly, his hand shooting out to grasp Malcolm’s wrist and _twist_.

Malcolm’s shocked yelp causes for Oliver to look up at him, their eyes meeting. “Malcolm!” the younger man exclaims, his grip loosening just enough for Malcolm to pull away. Belatedly putting together Malcolm’s presence in the room with the fact that somebody has taken his photograph, Oliver manages to sound like a petulant child when he yells, “Hey! Give that back.”

Already having retreated far enough to be out of Oliver’s arm range, Malcolm takes the opportunity to look at the image. He sees it for just long enough to fully take it in before Oliver rips it back with a glower. The picture is not too dissimilar from the one of Curtis and his husband. Both depict a couple clearly in love with one another. What is dissimilar is the tiny baby in the arms of the woman in Oliver’s photo. A woman who is Felicity Smoak, Malcolm’s competitor, at whom the Oliver in the photo is looking with the most absolute devotion.

“What are you doing, Malcolm?” Oliver growls, voice dark and gravelly. Dangerous, even.

Malcolm draws himself up to his full height, still just shy of Oliver’s, “I was wondering why you’re sneaking around my company. And then I was wondering why you would be asking for Felicity Smoak in the IT department of the wrong company. Now, I’m mostly wondering why you’re in a photograph with her and a baby, though I’m also starting to believe that the answer is something that would break your mother’s heart and would make having you in this building very dangerous to my company.”

A look of shame, of guilt flashes across Oliver’s face before realisation dawns on him, “Wait. Do you think… are you suggesting that I’m here for some sort of… what? _Corporate espionage_?”

“What do you expect me to think?” Malcolm says self-righteously, “You’re carrying around a very family looking photo of you and one of our biggest competitors. In it, you look far older than you were when you left here twelve years ago with your father and since I have never heard of Miss Smoak having a child before now, it suggests that you’ve been back for far longer than you’re letting on and that you’ve been… _consorting_ with her in private. What else could be going on here?”

Taken aback, Oliver gapes for a moment, “I’m not… _consorting_ with her! And I’m certainly not spying on my own family’s company! That’s insane.”

“Then how do you explain _this_?” Malcolm spits, his hand pointing to where Oliver is protectively cradling the slip of paper away from his view.

Oliver is lost for words, a thousand emotions pass over his face so quickly that even Malcolm struggles to spot them and cannot separate one from the next. “It’s nothing.” Oliver insists, looking like the very words cause him pain.

Malcolm explodes, “It’s clearly not!”

A light dawns in Oliver’s eyes, “I know Felicity from Harvard.” He rushes to say, “She was at MIT. We met at a coffee shop, I’d spilt a latte on my laptop, she saved it for me. We… we became friends and when I got back, she contacted me. I met up with her and another of our friends from Boston and the other friend has just had a baby. That’s the baby Felicity is holding in the photo.”

It seems reasonable, Oliver’s explanation, but Malcolm is struggling to believe it. “When did you possibly have time to meet up with these people?”

“Yesterday. After Tommy and I went out.” His response is quick, prepared. Malcolm still does not buy it. But he also cannot think of how else to poke holes in Oliver’s story without raising suspicions, so he decides to let it go. Temporarily.

*************************

It is not until much later, after the two of them have left the building and even after the Green Arrow has attacked Malcolm only to be stopped by the Dark Archer, that Malcolm spots the evidence of Oliver’s lies. If Oliver had met Felicity only the day before, why would he look for her in the IT department? Surely she would tell him about her company. And what was Oliver doing in Curtis Holt’s office? In the wake of Oliver’s photograph, questioning that had completely slipped Malcolm’s mind.

And, perhaps the most important misalignment between the evidence and Oliver’s story of all, if Oliver had only been Felicity’s friend for a short time twelve years ago, why did he look at her like she was absolutely everything good in his life?

Malcolm never gets the answers to these questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as far as I'm concerned, on Earth-2, Tommy didn't decide to destroy the Glades until after Thea's death, which was after the Gambit sank, and his mission seemed more solo than Malcolm's big organisation. That means that Tommy could not have been responsible for blowing up the Gambit, and somebody else must have been. Therefore, in my head, Malcolm did have some sort of plan to destroy the Glades and Earth-2 was the same as Earth-1 up until after the Gambit sank. At some point after that but before 2013, Moira made a deal with Malcolm to stop him from doing anything and that led to their 'complicated' marriage. Tommy then picked up where his father had left off with the machine and the idea after he decided to get revenge for Thea. I dunno, it's just what makes sense to me. And I doubt we'll ever get an actual explanation, especially now that Earth-2 is gone.


	3. [Raisa]-2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raisa knows that something is upsetting Oliver. She will always be there for him, no matter how big he gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty upset about Episode 9 and have started to lose some of my hope for the finale. Not all of it though, there is still a chance for a truly happy ending.
> 
> This chapter has way more angst than I intended, so I apologise for adding to the pain.

**Chapter III: [Raisa]-2**

Oliver is different. Raisa notices it immediately, the maturity that he exudes, the strength with which he carries himself. It is a far cry from the cocky, childish boy that had left Starling City over a decade ago.

It is an improvement.

To Raisa, it is the good, loving person she had always seen inside that boy finally being shown to the world. It makes her proud, to see how much he has grown in his years away. It also makes her curious as to how a man on a seemingly deserted island could come out of the experience even more well-adjusted than he went in.

She is also curious as to how he could be cooking one of the dishes she taught him at all, let alone _for_ somebody. William. Who could William possibly be? Because Oliver’s reaction to Tommy’s ‘Wilson’ comment had not been very convincing to her.

*************************

When Oliver sneaks into the house long past midnight, it does shock Raisa. She had thought, what with his seemingly newfound attitude, his nights of sneaking out and partying would be over. She tries not to – after all, she does respect Oliver’s privacy and he has a right to do whatever he wants, especially after his ordeal – but she still ends up seeing him as he all but collapses onto his bed, heaving a sigh. He sounds like he has the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

He sniffs, a short, sharp sound filled with pain and slides his hand into his pocket to withdraw something. It is a move that Raisa recognises. Several times over the last few days, she has seen him go through those exact same motions and then stare at the small item in his hand, completely oblivious to the world around him. When he looks at it, his entire being seems to focus on it, completely consumed by whatever feelings that it stirs up.

Normally, Raisa would leave him be during such a moment. There is something so profoundly private and personal about it that she cannot bring herself to interrupt, but this time, as she walks away, she hears a muffled sob. Oliver Queen may not be her biological child, but she raised that boy and his sister from their infancies. She was there for them more often than their own mother, and she certainly taught them far more too. At least, she taught them more of the important things like cooking and being decent human beings. She may not have completely succeeded, but she still feels like Oliver is her own child and she cannot simply stand by and listen as he sits in pain. Not when she might be able to offer some degree of comfort.

“Mister Oliver?” she asks, announcing her presence as she enters the room.

“Raisa!” he shoots up from where he is lying on his bed, blinking back the moisture in his eyes in an attempt to look composed.

Raisa knows Oliver, she knows him at his core. She knows that, no matter how much he may change, whenever he is struggling he will retreat into himself. He hates to admit to his feelings and he hates it when he feels like he is being questioned. He gets enough of that from his mother. And that is what he is doing right now, he is hiding away from her.

“Oliver Jonas,” she scolds, her motherly look of disapproval taking over, “Have you forgotten everything in your years away? You should know that you can never fool me by now.”

He finally lets himself sniffle, looking at her with a pained smile, “Sorry.” Is all that he says, This is clearly something that he is very unwilling to talk about.

“What has you upset?” His reluctance is strong, he says nothing but looks down at his hands, where he has hidden the object from her view as if he holds something precious. Raisa tries another approach, “Is it a girl?” she jokes. Oliver tries to laugh but it comes out more as a sob. She has clearly hit a nerve, “Are you seeing somebody?”

“Not exactly.” He mumbles.

“What does that mean?” she asks kindly.

He pauses for a moment, considering his words, “I’m never going to see her again, Raisa.” Large droplets are rolling down his cheeks as he silently cries.

*************************

Raisa has seen a lot of versions of Oliver Queen. She has seen him drunk, hungover, happy, angry, sad, proud and everything in between. But this is something that she has never encountered before. It is heartbreak, plain and simple. A deep, gut wrenching mourning for something that her boy held extremely close to his heart, something that he loved with everything in him.

“Oh, Oliver.” She breathes, wrapping her arms as far around his large shoulders as she can. He reacts instantly, almost slumping into her, exhaustion taking over and robbing him of his strength. “Tell me what happened. Tell me how to help.” Her own heart is breaking for his, wondering what could have happened in only a few days to make him like this, “Is it Laurel? Is that where you just got back from?” has he been holding out hope for a relationship that was never going to work out the entire time that he has been gone? Has Laurel just told him that it is over between them?

He snorts, “No. That was finished the minute I ran away with her sister. Actually, it was really done before I ever left, if I’m being honest.” So, it is something else then.

“Please let me help.” It is hard to keep her own tears at bay when he is so clearly broken in her arms.

“I can’t.” it is regretful, the way that he says it. He shifts his hands, thumb and forefinger twitching like they are aching to do something and the movement reveals what it is that he is holding. A photograph. A young boy, brunette, familiar. A beautiful woman smiling next to the child, happiness radiating from her.

Oliver does not notice when Raisa’s finger reaches out to trace the faces in the image, “Who are these, Oliver?” she asks before she thinks. He springs back, taking the picture with him as horror crosses his face. His hand clenches protectively around the paper before he realises that he could damage it, and carefully puts it back into his pocket. Before he can make any excuses, something clicks in Raisa’s mind, “Was that boy the William that you mentioned at dinner?”

For somebody who raised him, Oliver’s face is an open book and his reaction to her words lets her know that she is bang on the money. The boy is William, the woman is whoever he fears he will never see again. Who exactly they are is still unknown, but they mean a lot to Oliver and he wants to go back to them.

Another thought, one that it almost hurts to think, comes to Raisa’s mind, “Oliver…” she is scared to ask, she does not know if she really wants the answer, “Were you really on the island for the entirety of those twelve years?”

He was not.

_He was not._

He has been out there, for who knows how long, living a life and letting them all believe that he was dead. There is no denying it, the anguish on his face gives him away.

“Oliver?” she asks, horrified.

“I’m so sorry, Raisa.” He gives up all pretence, “I’m _so sorry_. I know that I should have come home the second that I got the chance, but I _couldn’t_. You have to believe me. _I couldn’t_.”

“Explain.” She demands, too many emotions filling her to comprehend, too many questions to ask.

“Seven years ago, a little fishing boat just like the one I called Mom from arrived at Lian Yu. I got their attention and was able to get off the island. But I made a promise to somebody, and I had to keep it before I could come home so I did but I met a girl. _This_ girl,” he shows her the photograph again, pointing at the young woman in it, “and I fell in love. She’s the love of my life, Raisa, and then we discovered that Mom had paid off Samantha to lie to me about losing the baby, and I met my son, William.” His finger shifts to hover over the boy. Oliver’s son. Oliver’s child, who did not die, who looks so much like his father it is uncanny.

“It is long and complicated, but I couldn’t come home. After Samantha died, Felicity and I took William in and we’ve been a family for a few years now.” He stops again, deep in thought, “But I was taken from them, and I’ll never get to see my family again, so I came back to the only other family I have ever known.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. Not really. But it was my decisions that led me to this point, this moment, and if keeping them safe means never seeing them again, I’ll do it.” He is defeated, Raisa realises, he has given up hope. He is merely passing time, waiting for something to happen because he truly believes that he will never get back to his loved ones again.

  
And no matter how angry the thought of him letting her and his family believe he was dead for seven years longer than necessary makes her. No matter how little she understands about his story. No matter how much more she wants to know, Raisa refuses to let her boy give up. She fully intends on meeting this family of Oliver’s, and she fully intends on getting him back to them. Because that is what she taught him to do for those he loves, and she will set the right example no matter what.

“Okay, Mister Queen.” She advances on him, pushing back her own hurt, “Do you want to see them again?” he nods, “So you do whatever it takes to make that happen.” She looks back down at the photo, heart softening at the sight of the pure joy on the faces of his loved ones, “Whatever it takes. You _do not_ give up. Agreed?”

Taken aback by her reaction, Oliver does not answer for a moment, just looking at her, “Agreed.” He still does not sound convinced, but Raisa knows that she has time to help him find his conviction, to help set him on his mission. And she knows that she has plenty of time to learn more about the last seven years of Oliver’s life and exactly what led him to this moment.

*************************

Raisa was wrong. She did not have that time. She did not have any more time left at all. She never gets to meet Oliver’s family, she never gets to see him regain his fighting spirit.

She never gets to learn about Mia.

She never even gets to learn that most of Oliver’s explanation had been a lie. That her Oliver had been dead and gone for twelve years and that the family this new version holds so dearly all belonged in a different universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that you liked it!


	4. [Tommy]-2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy confronts Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrow ends tomorrow. Friendly reminder. I'm not handling it well.
> 
> Side note: I know that there have been some rumours and spoilers going around about the finale, please don't discuss any of that in the comments. I'm intentionally avoiding social media right now so that I don't see anything and I know that others are too so please respect that.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter IV: [Tommy]-2**

Tommy storms through the door, furious at Oliver’s insistence that the Glades could be saved. “Get me his things!” he roars, “He knew more than he should have. I need to know how.” Drake and Ramirez scramble to comply with his order, rushing for Oliver’s stolen jacket.

Having no patience for their sycophantic behaviour, he snatches the garment from them, moving to his office for some privacy. The jacket feels empty, no obvious lumps or unnatural heaviness to the fabric to give away the presence of anything that might clue him in to what Oliver’s game is. He checks the seams for hidden pockets or for a section that might have been torn open and re-stitched with something inside it. He feels along every inch for a difference in texture. He finds it. There is a crinkle just over the left inside pocket. Something small and flat but solid.

Feeling slightly idiotic for not checking the pockets first, but mostly curious as to what Oliver would carry with him when he took nothing else, Tommy slides his hand into the pocket. His fingertips meet the edge of some paper. Does this contain the information on Tommy’s plan for the Undertaking? Will it lead him to whoever supplied Oliver with the details? Because there is no way that Oliver could figure it out after less than a week, not when the rest of the city is yet to do so. The paper is glossy, at least on one side. What does that mean? Reaching further in to grasp the slip, Tommy realises that there are actually two pieces of paper in there and he makes sure to check that they are the only things before pulling them out together.

The piece on top displays an image of a beautiful young woman and a child. Tommy recognises the woman immediately, she is extremely famous in the business world, Felicity Smoak. The child, on the other hand, he has never seen before. But the mere fact that Oliver is carrying around a photograph of Felicity Smoak, tech mogul, in his pocket sparks concern in Tommy. This woman is famous for her coding prowess and it is a well-known fact that she has aided law enforcement on several occasions with her hacking skills.

Is somebody on to him? Has she been contracted to look into his dealings? And has Oliver somehow become involved and sent to spy on him? He flips the sheet over, looking for evidence of any sort of message on the back but there is nothing visible to his eyes. He must check with a UV light or for that weird fire writing that his father has been known to use.

Tommy moves on to the next picture, and freezes when he lays eyes on it. Oliver is in this one. With Felicity. His hair shorn short, a style that he had never once adopted before the island, and his eyes are completely fixed on hers. And their hands – _their hands_ – are entwined and cradling the head of a tiny baby. Her other hand is on the baby’s belly, proudly displaying a golden wedding ring.

Tommy does not quite know how to process this. The things that it suggests… the things that he is imagining. It is unthinkable.

*************************

Forgetting about his investigation, Tommy numbly leaves his office, ignoring the meaningless buzz coming from his underlings, as he goes back to Oliver.

“Back so soon?” his old friend snidely remarks, impressively confident for a man shackled to a ceiling by chains.

“What are these?” Tommy throws the two photos to the floor by Oliver’s feet. Oliver almost visibly clams up, nostrils flaring as he attempts not to look at the items beneath him.

“What are what?” he is holding himself back, keeping something close to his chest.

It enrages Tommy, he and Oliver may be at odds right now, but the man is still like his brother. He is still Thea’s other brother and Tommy has just found out that, not only did Oliver leave the island and come close enough to home to meet Felicity Smoak, but he also seemingly started a new family and is now not even admitting to it. He is refusing to even acknowledge the evidence that is laid out clear as day in front of him.

“Don’t mess with me, Oliver!” Tommy yells, “What is this?”

“They’re photos.” Oliver deadpans.

“Why are there photos of you with Felicity Smoak and a baby? And who is the boy?”

“I don’t know.”

Tommy is getting even angrier than he had earlier, when Oliver had tried to convince him that his crusade is insanity, “You’re carrying these photos in your pocket, Oliver. Do you want me to go and ask Miss Smoak?” he threatens.

Oliver’s head whips up, danger flashing in his eyes as they meat Tommy’s, “Don’t you dare.” He growls, “You stay away from her.”

A smirk spreads across Tommy’s face, pleased with himself for eliciting a response from Oliver, “But if you don’t know what’s going on in these photos, then surely I should seek information elsewhere?”

“Felicity couldn’t tell you anything. She has never seen these photos before. She has never even met me before.” Oliver says desperately.

Tommy scowls, “Do you really expect me to believe that? There is literally evidence of the two of you together – holding a _baby_ , no less – right there.”

Pained, Oliver’s eyes close.

“Who is the baby, Oliver? Is it yours?”

Oliver’s chest wracks with emotion, “I don’t even know how to begin explaining this to you, Tommy. I don’t think I even can.”

In that moment, Tommy realises that there will be no answers from Oliver any time soon. Perhaps after a few days hanging from his wrists, wondering what Tommy is doing out in the world, but not until then. “Well then, I suppose I should go and find somebody who can.” He leaves the room, the sound of Oliver’s anguished screams heralding his exit.

*************************

Oliver escapes. Tommy did not expect that.

Oliver comes after him in order to stop the Undertaking. That, Tommy did expect.

But he was not ready to lose the fight between them. He was not prepared for Oliver to give him a speech designed to convince him to spare the Glades.

“I have lost people too, Tommy. I have lost people closer to me than I could _possibly_ explain to you.” Oliver commiserates, reminding Tommy that Thea is not the only person who has died over the last few years. She is not even the only one to go due to a drug overdose.

The slap of something flat hitting the ground sounds next to Tommy’s ear, a small puff of air coming with it. “Most recently, I lost these people.” Tommy looks, the two photos that Oliver had taken back with him when he escaped are before him. “My son,” Oliver’s finger points towards the one of Felicity and the boy, “My wife,” he is talking about Felicity and the ring on her finger, “And my daughter.” Oliver’s voice breaks on the final word, his stance softening a little as he gestures towards the image of the baby.

“Just one week ago, I had to make the decision to leave them, my family, in order to protect them. I haven’t seen my son in more than half a year, I will never get to bring him home and I am going to miss seeing him meet his sister, I’m going to miss seeing my daughter grow up. I made that choice, but that doesn’t make losing them any easier.” Oliver’s words are making sense, the sheer agony on his face so familiar to Tommy as it is a reflection of his own face whenever he thinks of the day that he found Thea cold on the floor, but he still cannot understand them. How can Oliver have a family? What could possibly force him to leave them for their own protection?

“And the loss of my family to circumstance hurts just as much as the deaths of everyone who I lost before. Every one of those losses brings with it a choice between darkness and light. Make the right choice.” Oliver pleads.

It could be the fact that Oliver reminds Tommy so much of himself in this moment, or that he wants to get the answers about Oliver’s new family. It could even be that Oliver’s speech was just so powerful that it resonates within him, but whatever it is, as Oliver continues to speak, Tommy decides to make the right choice. Oliver finishes saying what it is that he has to say, and Tommy chooses.

He chooses the light.

*************************

He is in a holding cell when he next sees Oliver. Unable to shake the thoughts that have been bubbling up ever since Oliver admitted to having a wife and two children, the only thing that he can tell his old friend is that he wonders if Thea would still be alive had Oliver come home earlier.

“I’ve made my own mistakes.” Is all that Oliver has a chance to say before his father and Moira burst into the room.

Tommy figures that it is fine, he will have a chance to understand the decisions and mistakes that Oliver has made in the future. He knows that his friend will still visit him even after he is locked up, he trusts in that at least.

“I have to go.” Oliver lets the three of them know. And Tommy does not want to believe it, but the statement seems very final. Like an ending, not just a brief interlude. He can vaguely hear Oliver saying goodbye to Moira as his father berates him but before he can fully understand what is happening, the world explodes in a cloud of red. Chaos invading everything.

Malcolm disintegrates before his very eyes and Tommy runs out from where his cell walls are vanishing in a desperate attempt to find Oliver.

He does.

Too late.

The last face that Tommy Merlyn sees is Oliver Queen’s.

Pain.

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hurt to write.


	5. [Thea]-1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have a bonus Thea chapter.
> 
> Extended 803 opening scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned this chapter months ago but didn't think I was going to include it. But then I wrote it, so here you go!
> 
> Also, can we all take a moment to appreciate today's date? 02-02-20. What a beauty. Second best of the year.

**Chapter V: [Thea]-1**

Heart pounding and still reeling from the fact that, if Oliver’s reflexes were not so fast, she would have just shot her own brother in the head, Thea sets about relighting the fire. Not one to let other people do things for him, her big brother helps out. She can see on his face that he is wandering what exactly she is doing here, back in Nanda Parbat, and why she had been so expectant of an attack that she had put the fire out and hid in the trees. By some miracle, he keeps his mouth shut until they are both settled in again.

“You attacked. Are you in danger?” is the first thing that blurts from his mouth. Predictable.

“No more than usual.” She rolls her eyes, “I’ve always got to be on the lookout for Athena and her cronies but to my knowledge, I’m not in any immediate danger.”

“Still.” He laments. If Thea knows anything about her brother, it is that he blames himself for _everything_ and this is no exception.

“I’m fine, Ollie.” She sighs, attempting to brush off his concern, “I’m dealing with it.”

It does not work, in fact, it sobers him more than anything “You shouldn’t have to _deal_ with anything, Thea.”

“We’ve been through this. I chose to do this with my life, not you. My problems are mine and the only people at fault are the people who decided that Athena would be a good leader to follow.” He harrumphs, still not convinced but lets the topic go.

*************************

“How come you’re out here?” Thea asks, moving on to something else, “Last I heard, you and Felicity went into hiding together.”

“We did.” He is always softer when a conversation involves Felicity.

“So why are you here, instead of with your wife?”

He plasters his patented public grin onto his face, “What? Am I not allowed to want to visit my sister?”

“Sure, Ollie,” she playfully pushes his shoulder, “But you and I both know that Felicity would come with you on a visit.”

A faraway look takes over, his eyes glazing over as he stares into the distance, “Ollie?” she asks, actually starting to worry, “Is Felicity okay?”

He snaps out of it, “What? Yeah. Yes. She’s fine. She’s probably not very happy with me right now, but she’s safe.”

What he has just said will need some dissecting, but Thea decides to focus on the most important part first, “She’s okay?” he confirms with a nod, “So where is my favourite sister-in-law?”

Oliver smiles, “She’s your only sister-in-law.”

“Ollie.” She reprimands.

He is already pulling something from his jacket pocket, “She’s a little busy, right now.” He hands it over to her with the biggest smile on his face. Taking it, her heart skips a beat. That is her brother. And his wife. And a baby.

A _baby_.

“Ollie… is… is this?” she looks up to see his smile widen even further, “Is this your baby?”

“She’s almost three months old now.” He brags, fatherly pride swelling his chest, “She’s why we went into hiding, to keep her safe.”

Something wet slides down Thea’s cheek and she realises that she is crying, “She?”

“Mia.” He breathes, softer than she has ever seen him, “Mia Smoak Queen.” He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to comment.

Her niece. Mia.

Thea takes a minute to soak in every aspect of the picture. From the adoring, blissful look that Oliver and Felicity are sharing, to the protective way that Felicity’s hand cradles the baby’s head and both are, in turn, cradled by Oliver’s own hand, to the bright wedding ring shining of Felicity’s finger where it rests on the baby’s belly. It would be the perfect image, if not for the lack of William.

“Where’s William?” she looks up just in time to see his bright smile dim.

“He’s still with his grandparents. We were planning on bringing him home, to the cabin to meet his sister, but we didn’t get the chance.” This is clearly upsetting Oliver, so Thea tries to bring back the joy.

“I’m guessing Mia is for Mom and not my Corto Maltese alias?”

“Good guess.” A smile flashes back on his face, vindicating Thea, “Though, I will admit that the fact that it was a name that you also used made it all the more appealing. I felt like it was giving her something of the both of you.”

“And how did Felicity feel?” Thea says, remembering the complicated relationship that her mother and her friend had. Though, in fairness, her mother had a complicated relationship with pretty much everybody she ever came into contact with.

“Felicity liked it. We both brainstormed a few names without discussing it and then we had a conversation about a week after she told me she was pregnant and we were able to pick some out that we both liked. She’d found a name she liked for a boy and I’d got one for a girl and since we both loved each other’s’ names, it worked.”

“You two disgust me, sometimes.”

Oliver frowns, “What do you mean?”

“You’re both so in sync. It’s gross. Coming up with names separately only to both come up with names for different genders that both of you agree on, immediately, in one conversation. That’s not right. Most people argue for months.” Before he can protest again, she asks, “What would you have called a boy?”

That sappy expression reappears, his love for his family overriding his annoyance at Thea’s teasing, “Lucas.”

“That’s cute.” She takes one last look at the photo, “Speaking of cute, she’s beautiful, Ollie.” She hands it back to him. It warms her heart to watch as he gazes at it for a beat before putting it to the side. It also saddens her to see the longing in his eyes. What could possibly have dragged him away from that? What could possibly have stopped him from getting his son back?

Oliver motions towards his cheek, mirroring the position of her scar. “Where did you get that?” she tells him. She tells him about everything.

*************************

And then, after they express how much they miss one another, he tells her about Mar Novu and his debt. His new mission.

He tells her that he is going to die.

She does not believe him for one second.

Oliver Queen does not die. Not when he still has something to live for.

And he has more to live for now than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver Queen is immortal and therefore he lives for his family. This is not a sad ending. I know, I shocked me too. I swear, when I planned this fic, I didn't intend for the chapters to have such morose endings. It just happened.
> 
> Anyway, this actually is the last one. I promise. Happy February! I'll see you for the next fic (hopefully).

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, so all mistakes are mine. I'm on Twitter [@MagusLibera](https://twitter.com/MagusLibera).


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